


[End Credits]

by sanguiniel



Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8562760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguiniel/pseuds/sanguiniel
Summary: Arkin's different, and he's so excited.





	

The news had caught up again, thrown all the information they could find on the air. Not as nice as it usually was; his latest collection had been in trouble a few times. A thief. It explained why he’d been in the Collector’s neighborhood.

His wife was part of the broadcast. That was new. There hasn’t been anyone left afterward before, to cry over wanting their husband back, beg for him not to be hurt.

The news is where the Collector gets his name. Arkin O’Brien, in scrolling letters across the screen each time they pull up his mugshot.

He mouths the words, savors how they whisper over his tongue. Arkin O’Brien. Arkin O’Brien. His newest piece, maybe his best, although it has yet to be seen. Definitely his most difficult. He won’t be letting this one go for a while.

The Collector shifts his legs wider, thinks about how this man, Arkin, had slipped through (even escaped) one of his houses before. He hadn't known Arkin was there until he was coming back to save the little girl. How noble of him. Did he regret that decision now?

The Collector would ask him later. Ask him if given the choice, after knowing what happens to his pets, would he go through it again. The pain versus his morals. It didn’t matter what he chose, it would be delicious forcing him to answer. The shame of having to admit he’d let a child suffer if it meant he didn’t have to. Or maybe he would stick to it, spit and snarl.

He'd spit at him before, had a lot to say until the Collector put the roaches to him, and that had been more than good. Arkin twisting and shouting in pain as the bugs burrowed deeper and he jerked on the hooks. No more curses when that cop had shown up and he'd pulled away, just whimpering and trying to avoid the Collector's eye.

The Collector runs his tongue over dry lips, slid a hand over to push down on his hardening dick. The roaches were fun, but not sustainable. The wounds get infected too easy. 

He jerks open the zip on his pants rougher than usual, moves them just out of the way to get a hand on himself, doesn't bother to take off his gloves. The leather's smooth and faintly warmed from his body heat.

The Collector's jerked off before thinking about his work, during those teasing in between stages when he's picking the next pieces for his collection. Laying in the dark at home after he's had to leave his museum for another day and play at being a normal citizen. This is different though, Arkin's different, and he's so _excited_.

A shiver rolls down his spine and embarrassingly, he has to stop and squeeze himself for a moment. Slow down. The ride hasn’t even started.  
The Collector listens over the sound of his own heavy breathing; he can’t hear Arkin screaming and it’s disappointing and reassuring in equal measure. The hotel needs to be soundproof, but he doesn’t want to break Arkin too early. He likes finding that tipping point between fighting and begging too much to let it go so soon.

He starts moving his hand again, slower, almost too tight to be comfortable. Thinks about how Arkin had shook right before he’d had to leave him, shirt sagging unevenly and blood dripping down his chin and neck. When the Collector had pried his mouth open there’d already been a tooth missing from their fight; he’d been gracious just to knock out only one more.

The Collector grunts, spits in his hand a few times. It’s not wet enough, but starts to get there with the precum he’s leaking that it’s not hard to imagine Arkin’s drooling, disgustingly bloody mouth around him instead. Arkin would fight, of course, but the threat of losing more teeth would probably keep him quiet and cooperative. 

The Collector would play nice, not too rough with him. He’d keep his hands bound behind his back, move him around by his hair but not fuck his face just yet. That could be later when he tried to act up again because of course he would, try to stage a little escape plan. The Collector would goad him into if he had to.

It’s getting harder to keep his train of thought from breaking up into spliced pictures when he gets closer. Holding Arkin’s head down to make him swallow. Coming on his face just to wipe it off and make Arkin clean the mess off his fingers. It wouldn’t be much to shove his fingers down his throat, feel him choke and gag on them. 

The Collector bucks sharply at the last thought, cums into his fist with a hissed animal noise. He shoves the dirty glove away onto a decrepit tabletop nearby. He won’t leave it here, mindful of evidence even in his house where it would be too late to hide anything. But it can be ignored for the immediate moment. 

The sight of his bare hand when he strips off the filthy glove is titillating even right after orgasm; he could so easily make his fantasy a reality. 

Not this soon though. There are things to be done. Arkin needs a room all to himself, and none of the ones empty right now are good enough. The Collector’s going to have to clean out one of his inferior pieces to make space. When that’s done, well. There’s nothing stopping him from checking in on Arkin before he moves him in.


End file.
